


Aw, Heck

by Vituperative_cupcakes



Category: Fargo (2014)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, homosexual epiphany
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-24 01:08:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1586093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vituperative_cupcakes/pseuds/Vituperative_cupcakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lester attempts his first wank a week after his wife's death. Something not entirely unwelcome intrudes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aw, Heck

**Author's Note:**

> Just pretend that at this point Lester know's Lorne's name and we'll be good.

“ _You can't even face me when we're having sex_.”

It's true Lester’s always had a problem with...with _that_. Truth be told lately he was having all kind of problems with Pearl. He tried and tried to be a good husband, but none of the feeble tricks he thought of worked. He tried thinking of porno beauties with their inflated nipples and airbrush curves, but in his imagination they looked back at him, accusing. _Who the heck do you think you are?_ Real life offered no respite, with Pearl grunting like a Guernsey catching long passes beneath him, about as erotic.

This wasn't new. Back in twelfth grade when they went to park and neck up by the old quarry he always spent the time trying to seem like he knew what he was doing, figuring the awkward would slough off with time. Pearl spent her time moaning voluptuously and making a good show of it, he couldn't blame Pearl, he just didn't...didn't.

Then Lorne and Sam and the hammer  _andandand_ —

It was a full week after his wife's death before he allowed himself to attempt relief. It was almost laughably mundane, him sitting at the edge of their... _his_ bed, in his wool socks, staring down at his penis as if it would offer ideas. He made several aborted attempts to touch it before he nerved himself up to grab it.

Pearl would never grab it. Pearl had soft hands, hadn't wanted to risk them on any of that kinky stuff. And he wouldn't have asked. Because he was a good husband.

Lester bit his lip and sniffed. _There you go again. Just put your mind on other things._

First he tried the classics, the girls he knew through high school, Ms. Knutson over at the diner who'd had gams to kill for twenty years ago, a few movie starlets. Then he thought of Sam's wife, her leg hefted above his shoulder, shameless and aggressive and not really into him but not really opposed to him either.

He gave his semi-soft erection a little squeeze. Now, just for fun, just for kicks, just for ha-ha laughs, he thought of Lorne.

And his body went  _oh_ and his mouth went “oh,  _heck_ ,” and his cock finally got hard.

It was probably the look. Nobody, no one in his whole life, had really  _looked_ at Lester, no one had had any reason to. Lorne had looked, wanted to talk even. He'd actually listened and commiserated...and committed murder, sure, but that was the most anyone's ever done for him.

Lester was slightly frightened of how aroused he was thinking of a murderer. He was only slightly less frightened of how aroused he was thinking of another man. It probably explained a few things.

It's like his mom said when he was a boy.  _How can you tell if you like coriander if you haven't tried it?_

“ _Mister, we're not friends, maybe we will be someday..._ ”

No one had ever _wanted_ to be Lester's friend. There was Dave and Bill and Bob and the boys, but they were just fellow outcasts and losers thrown together by process of elimination. Pearl had lost a double date coin-toss with her friend, she'd laughingly told him one night, and figured he was harmless enough she didn't have to fake sick.

Lorne had stopped a bully for him. Lorne had taught him to stand up for himself. Lester half suspected that most of the stuff Lorne did for him was something he was capable of himself, but lacked a little something to pull off. But Lorne had pushed him, gave him that little something. Lorne had noticed that he was capable of these things.

Lester had never been noticed. Lester had never been spoken to in an encouraging manner. It did  _things_ to him, things that made him bite his knuckle as the other hand went to work there on the edge of his bed.

Lorne was not, now that it came down to it, conventionally attractive. Heck, Lester had no standards for what made men attractive, Lorne had nothing to measure up to. It was his confidence, that air of danger that promised so much.

Lester panted as he slicked foreskin back and forth, mesmerized by the dizzy pace he set. Lorne smiling at him. Lorne telling him it would all be okay. Lorne bashing in Sam's brains— _ohgodohjeezoheck_ .

Lester came so hard the world flashed white for a moment. It would be a fitting irony, dying of a stroke while masturbating to his bully's murderer. But his vision cleared and the fog crept back into the corners of the room and Lester was left with a softening cock and the taste of coriander in his mouth.


End file.
